Tillmann Lübert had never known what it meant to want something. His father, a powerful businessman, had given him everything on a silver platter since childhood, and Tillmann had accepted it all without a second thought. He partied, changed girlfriends like shirts, and drifted through life until the night everything changed on a Berlin crosswalk. The music was still pounding in his ears when he slumped into the back seat of the car.
Jörg was humming at the wheel, Dennis already nodding off beside him. Another club night had ended, loud, fun, and utterly meaningless. “Hey Til, did you see how that blonde was looking at you? You could have left with her instead of hanging around with us until closing time,” Jörg said, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Not in the mood,” Tillmann mumbled, staring out at the city lights. “You haven’t been in the mood for six months,” Jörg grumbled. “Relax. You only live once.
”
Tillmann didn’t answer. He had everything, money, freedom, and no worries. Yet something felt hollow. His friends called him lucky, and maybe he was, but he didn’t feel it.
The car raced through empty streets. Up ahead, a yellow traffic light blinked. “We’ll make it,” Jörg said confidently and pressed the accelerator. The light turned red just as they hit the intersection.
And there, on the crosswalk, a figure appeared. A young woman in a plain jacket and jeans, a shoulder bag slung over her arm. She walked slowly, eyes glued to her phone. Jörg slammed the brakes.
The car skidded, tires screamed, and the hood stopped a meter from her. She looked up, pale, frozen. “Idiot, watch where you’re going! ” Jörg leaned out the window, red with rage.
The woman stood her ground, clutching her bag to her chest. Her hands trembled, but her eyes flashed. “Or maybe you’re the idiot who bought his license and thinks he owns the road! ” she shouted back, stepping forward.
“I’ll make you regret this! ”
Jörg was already opening the door, but Tillmann grabbed his shoulder. “Stop. You’re the one at fault,” he said quietly but firmly.
“What? How? ”
“You ran a red light. ”
Tillmann got out.
“She’s right. You almost killed her. ”
Jörg muttered something but stayed in the car. Dennis woke up, blinking sleepily.
Tillmann walked toward the woman. She was still on the crosswalk, watching him suspiciously. In the dim streetlight, he saw her face, plain, without makeup, chestnut-brown hair falling to her shoulders. An ordinary girl like hundreds on the streets, but something in her gaze held him.
“Sorry about my friend,” he said. “He really is to blame. Are you hurt? ”
“No,” she swallowed.
“Just scared. ”
“I see you’re still far from the student dorm. It’s dangerous alone at this hour. ” He glanced back at the car.
Jörg was pointedly looking away. “May I walk you there? ”
She frowned. “Why would you do that?
”
“I want to make up for my friend’s mistake. ”
“I’m Tillmann,” he added. “Rosalie,” she answered after a pause. “That’s a beautiful name.
”
She rolled her eyes, but a corner of her mouth twitched. “That’s the most clichéd line I’ve ever heard. ”
“Then let me try again. The name is old-fashioned, but it suits you.
”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But no funny business. ”
“I promise to behave.
”
He walked back to the car. Jörg lowered the window. “Seriously? ”
“I’m walking.
Go without me. ”
“Because of this girl—”
“I’m just as guilty as you. I should have stopped you earlier. ”
Jörg cursed but started the engine.
The car sped off, leaving exhaust smoke behind. They walked through the night streets. For the first few minutes, silence hung between them. Tillmann stole glances at her.
Rosalie walked with her hands in her pockets, eyes on the ground. “Do you study? ” he asked. “Yes, third semester.
German literature. ”
“So you love books. ”
“I do. And you?
”
“Business administration. My father thinks I should know the family trade. ”
“Thinks or demands? ”
Tillmann grinned.
“Good catch. He demands. But I don’t resist much. Nothing else to do.
”
“That sounds sad. ”
“Do you have something you really want to do with your life? ”
“Honestly, I’ve never thought about it. ”
“That’s strange.
Everyone should know what they love. Otherwise, how do you live? ”
She spoke simply, without drama, but with such honesty that warmth spread through his chest. They talked about everything, favorite films, music, funny childhood memories.
Rosalie told him how she once tried to run away with a cat in her backpack because her parents wouldn’t let her get a dog. “And did the cat go along with the escape plan? ”
“He screamed so loudly they found me at the neighbor’s entrance within five minutes,” she smiled. “But in the end, we got a dog anyway.
”
“A manipulator from childhood,” Tillmann nodded. “A strategist,” she corrected. They reached the dorm faster than Tillmann wanted. This evening could not end, but it did, at the entrance.
“Thanks for walking me,” she said. “Can I have your number? ” he blurted. She raised her eyebrows.
“Why? ”
“I want to invite you for coffee. As an apology for my idiot friend. ”
“You already apologized by walking me.
”
“Then just because I enjoyed talking to you. ”
She studied him for a moment, then gave in. “Fine. Text me.
”
He saved her number, his heart pounding. “I’ll write tomorrow. ”
“We’ll see,” she smiled and disappeared behind the door. He stood there for a few minutes, staring at the lit windows.
Then he pulled out his phone and typed: Here is Tillmann. Good night, Rosalie. The answer came almost instantly: Good night. He smiled and flagged down a taxi.
For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the next day. The following weeks flew by. Tillmann wrote to her daily. They met in cafés, walked through the city, went to the movies.
She never asked for expensive restaurants or gifts. His attention was enough. After a month, he knew he was in love, truly in love for the first time. Rosalie was different.
She didn’t play games, didn’t flirt, didn’t put on airs. She was real. A year later, he proposed at the exact spot where they had first met. Rosalie cried and nodded, unable to speak.
“I love you,” he whispered, slipping the ring onto her finger. “I love you,” she answered through tears. All that was left was to introduce her to his parents. Tillmann wasn’t worried.
How could anyone not love Rosalie? But he was wrong. They arrived at the family estate on a Sunday. Rosalie was nervous, tugging at her dress.
Tillmann took her hand. “Everything will be fine. ”
His father received them in the living room. His mother sat on the sofa with a glass of wine.
Both looked at Rosalie as if she were dirt on their expensive carpet. “So this is her? ” the father asked coldly. “Yes, may I introduce Rosalie.
My fiancée. ”
“Fiancée,” his mother repeated with an icy smile. “Tillmann, we need to speak to you alone. ”
“I want Rosalie to stay.
”
“That’s out of the question. ” The father’s voice rose. “Go to the hallway. Now.
”
Tillmann clenched his fists but obeyed. In the hallway, his father turned to him. “Are you insane? Engaged to this ordinary girl?
”
“Don’t talk about her like that. ”
“I’ll talk however I see fit. You’re my son, my heir. You need a woman from our circles.
Good family, connections, money. Not someone from a dormitory. ”
“I don’t care about your connections. I love her.
”
“Love? ” his father snorted. “Love fades. But the right wife stays forever.
”
“I’m marrying Rosalie. With or without your blessing. ”
His father turned red with rage, but before he could answer, noise came from the living room. Tillmann rushed in.
Rosalie stood in the middle of the room, tears on her face. His mother sat cold and indifferent. “What did you say to her? ”
“The truth,” his mother answered calmly.
“That you’re too good for her, and she knows it. ”
Rosalie looked at him with anguished eyes. “Forgive me,” she whispered. “I can’t.
” And she ran out of the house. “Rosalie! ” Tillmann ran after her, but she was already racing down the path to the gate. “Wait, stop!
”
She didn’t stop. She ran onto the road without looking back. The next moment, brakes screeched and a dull thud. Tillmann froze.
Time stopped. He saw Rosalie fall onto the asphalt and heard his own scream. He ran to her, fell to his knees, gathered her in his arms. Her eyes were open but already empty.
“No, no, no,” he whispered. “Rosalie, please don’t leave me. ”
But she couldn’t hear him anymore. The ambulance arrived in ten minutes, but it was too late.
Tillmann didn’t remember how he got home or how the week passed. He fell into a black hole with no way out. At the funeral, he stood alone. His parents didn’t come.
Friends muttered condolences and left. Only he and the grave with its wooden cross remained. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “This is my fault.
I brought you to them. I didn’t protect you. ”
He swore he would never speak to his parents again. And he would prove to them and the whole world that he could succeed on his own.
Without their money. Without their connections. In memory of Rosalie. Fifteen years passed like a single long breath.
Tillmann stood before the mirror in his apartment, buttoning his shirt. He was at that age between youth and old age, carrying the weight of victories and defeats behind him, with a future that no longer seemed endless. From the nightstand, he took a bouquet of white roses. Rosalie’s favorites.
She had once said white roses meant purity and eternity. Back then, he had laughed at her romanticism. Now he brought them to her grave every week. He left the apartment, got into his black car, and drove across Berlin.
The city had changed beyond recognition, new buildings, shopping centers, highway interchanges. The city grew and changed while Tillmann seemed frozen on that distant day when he lost her. For fifteen years, he had no relationships. Women tried to catch his attention everywhere, a successful entrepreneur, a millionaire who built his empire from nothing, a sought-after bachelor.
But Tillmann waved them all off with polite indifference. His heart was buried with Rosalie, and he had no intention of digging it up. Until he met Viviane. It happened three months ago in a small café he’d wandered into by chance.
She sat by the window with a book, sunlight falling on her chestnut hair, making it shimmer gold. Tillmann froze. His heart skipped a beat. The profile, the line of her neck, even the way she pursed her lips while reading, everything reminded him of Rosalie.
He approached her table without knowing what he was doing. “Excuse me, is this seat free? ”
The young woman looked up. Brown eyes with golden flecks, just like Rosalie’s.
“Yes, sit down. ”
Her voice was soft, calm. They started talking. Viviane was a freelance translator who loved old books and long walks.
She smiled the same open smile, laughed the same light, sincere laugh. With every meeting, Tillmann became more convinced that fate was giving him a second chance. Viviane was like balm on his wounded soul. The walls he had built for fifteen years began to crumble.
But every time he kissed her, he saw Rosalie’s face. Every time he held her hand, he remembered the other one, cold and lifeless on the asphalt. Guilt wouldn’t let him go. He didn’t know if he had the right to happiness or if Rosalie would forgive him for loving someone else.
The cemetery lay on the city’s edge, a quiet place among old trees. Tillmann parked at the gate and walked the familiar path. His feet knew it by heart. Rosalie’s grave was well kept.
He paid people to maintain it. A white marble stone with her photo. In the picture, she smiled with exactly the smile that had once turned his world upside down. He knelt and laid the bouquet at the memorial.
His fingers trembled. He touched the cold stone, tracing the engraved letters of her name. “Hello, my love,” he whispered. “Forgive me for not coming for a while.
Work, but that’s no excuse, I know. ”
The wind rustled in the leaves above him. A crow cawed somewhere. Tillmann took a deep breath, his throat tightening.
“I need to talk to you about something important. ”
He paused, searching for words. Each one felt like he was ripping it from the depths of his soul. “I met a girl.
”
At those words, spoken aloud, Tillmann felt something break inside him. He lowered his head, unable to look at the photo. “She reminds me so much of you, Rosalie. The same simplicity, the same lightness.
Even her hair waves like yours. When I saw her for the first time, I thought for a moment you had come back. ”
Tears rose to his eyes. He clenched his fists, trying to control the emotions threatening to flood him.
“I know this sounds crazy. I know you’re never coming back. But when I’m with her, I can breathe again. I can live, not just exist.
”
Tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. Here, alone with Rosalie’s memory, he didn’t have to be strong. “For fifteen years, I didn’t let anyone close.
I thought it was right, that I had to stay true to your memory. But now, I don’t know anymore. Maybe I’m just tired of being alone. ”
His hands trembled harder.
He wiped his face, smearing the tears. “I feel like a traitor,” he confessed quietly. “Every time I look at Viviane, when we laugh together or sit in silence, I feel like I’m betraying you. Our love.
Everything we had. ”
The wind grew stronger, leaves swirling through the air. Tillmann raised his head and looked at the photo. Rosalie smiled at him, as always, warm and kind, the smile that had once warmed his cold days.
“Somewhere deep inside me, there’s still this guilt,” he continued, his voice breaking. “I caused your death, Rosalie. I know that. I brought you to them.
I didn’t protect you from their poison. ”
He closed his eyes, and the scene appeared before him again. His mother’s cold, contemptuous face, his father’s words cutting like knives, and Rosalie pale and trembling with tears. “If everything had been different that day,” Tillmann whispered, “if I had stopped you, if I hadn’t brought you to them at all, you would still be alive.
We would be together. ”
Tears streamed down his face, but he no longer noticed. All the pain he had stored for fifteen years burst out. “I cut all contact with them that day,” he said.
“I left their house and never went back. I built my company from nothing, without their money, without their connections. I wanted to prove to them I was right. That you were worthy of me.
That we could have been happy. ”
He fell silent, staring at the grave. His heart pounded in his throat. “But now I have another chance at happiness.
I don’t know what to do, Rosalie. I don’t know if I have the right to it. Whether I’m allowed to love someone else when you’re dead because of me. ”
He sank onto both knees, as if in prayer.
“I want to know what you think about me marrying her. ” His voice trembled so much the words were barely coherent. “If you’re against it, tell me. Give me a sign.
I beg you. ”
Silence. Only the rustling of leaves and distant city traffic. Tillmann closed his eyes and waited.
He didn’t know for what. A voice, a vision, a miracle. And suddenly, very close, a bird began to sing. Clear, bright, full of life.
Tillmann turned abruptly. On a branch a few meters away sat a small bird with reddish plumage, trilling. Its song was so sudden and radiant in the cemetery stillness that Tillmann’s heart beat faster. He watched the bird, unable to look away.
It sang and sang, as if only for him, and in that song, he heard something. Not words. A feeling. Warmth.
Forgiveness. Blessing. “Is that you? ” Tillmann whispered, fresh tears flowing.
“Are you answering me? ”
The bird finished its song and flew away, disappearing among the branches. Tillmann followed it with his eyes and felt, for the first time in years, a weight lifting from his shoulders. The guilt didn’t disappear.
It never would. But he understood that he had the right to keep living. The right to happiness. Rosalie wasn’t holding him back.
She was letting him go. “Thank you, my love,” he whispered through tears. “Thank you for giving me a chance. You’ll stay in my heart forever.
I’ll never forget you. ”
He stood up, feeling empty and full at the same time. He touched the marble stone one last time. “I’ll always come to you and tell you about her.
About Viviane. I want you to know that I’m happy. That I’ve finally found peace. ”
He lingered a moment longer, looking at the photo.
Rosalie smiled. It seemed to him the smile had grown warmer. Maybe imagination, maybe a trick of the light. But he believed she had heard him.
That she understood. He turned and walked slowly down the path toward the exit. Each step was lighter than the last. The burden he had carried for fifteen years still pressed down, but now Tillmann knew he could live with it.
He could love again without betraying Rosalie’s memory. At the cemetery gate, he turned back one last time. The white stone was visible in the distance among the trees. Tillmann raised his hand in farewell.
“See you soon, Rosalie. ”
He got in the car and started the engine. Past gravestones, old trees, autumn flowers. He drove onto the highway toward the city center, toward his office, toward the life he had built himself, toward a future that no longer seemed so threatening.
At a traffic light, he looked in the rearview mirror at his reflection. Gray temples, wrinkles around his eyes, a tired gaze. Half his life was behind him. But the other half was still ahead, and he didn’t want to spend it alone.
He took out his phone and wrote to Viviane: Hello, how are you? The answer came almost immediately: Everything is wonderful. I’m working. Tillmann smiled and put the phone on the passenger seat.
The light turned green, and he drove on. The city rushed past the windows, alive, loud, full of people. Tillmann no longer felt like a stranger among them. He belonged again.
The office building appeared, tall and made of glass, with his company’s logo on the facade. He drove into the underground garage and turned off the engine. He sat still for a moment, gathering himself. “I’ll make it, Rosalie,” he whispered into the emptiness of the car.
“I’ll be happy for both of us. ”
The elevator slid upward. Tillmann looked at the mirrored doors, adjusting his tie. The lightness from the cemetery conversation was still inside him, as if a huge stone had fallen from his soul.
The doors opened, and he stepped into the spacious hallway of his office. The receptionist nodded warmly. “Good morning, Mr. Lübert.
”
“Good morning, Anna. ”
He walked toward his office. But before he had taken ten steps, Ren came rushing around the corner. His assistant looked flustered, tie crooked, hair disheveled, folder in hand.
“Hey boss, important negotiations in fifteen minutes. I thought you weren’t coming. ”
Tillmann glanced at his watch. He really had taken longer than planned.
“Sorry, got held up. ” He smiled so broadly that Ren stopped and looked at him in disbelief. “You’re smiling,” Ren said slowly, as if he couldn’t believe it. “Tillmann, did something happen I don’t know about?
”
They went into the office. Tillmann closed the door and walked to the window, looking down at the city. High-rises, streets, a human anthill. His city.
His life. “Yes,” he said finally, turning to his friend. “I made a decision. I want to propose to Viviane.
”
Ren froze, folder in hand. “What? ” he breathed. “Wow.
” He stepped closer and clapped Tillmann on the shoulder. But in his eyes was not just surprise, something like concern. “Are you sure? ” Ren asked quietly.
“This is a big step. ”
“I’ve been alone for fifteen years. I think it’s time to move on. Rosalie would have wanted that.
”
Ren nodded, but his face remained tense. “Good, congratulations, friend. But now you need to focus. These investors are our chance to move to the next level.
Ready? ”
“Ready. ”
They left the office and walked down the hall toward the meeting room. Ren summarized the key points as they walked.
“The main investor is Viktor Sergeyevich Krasnov. Tough, direct, hates empty talk. He’s bringing three others, his finance director, lawyer, and an advisor. They’re interested, but they want specifics.
Numbers, timelines, guarantees. ”
“I have all that,” Tillmann assured him. “I know, but they’ll push, look for weaknesses. Be on guard.
”
They stopped before the meeting room. Through the glass door, Tillmann saw the long table, leather chairs, projector, screen, carafes of water. Everything was ready. “Give me a minute,” he asked.
Ren nodded and stepped aside, pulling out his phone. Tillmann leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. This contract meant more than money or expansion. It was the chance to finally surpass his father.
To prove he wasn’t just the son of a rich man. He had built his company from nothing, and now he was ready to overtake his father’s empire. Otto Lübert was still an influential figure in business circles, but his company had been losing ground. Competition was growing, the market was changing, and the old man wasn’t keeping up.
Tillmann knew it, and today’s contract could be the final nail in the coffin of his father’s business. “They’re here. ” Ren’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Tillmann opened his eyes and nodded.
They entered and took their seats. A minute later, the door opened and the investors came in. Viktor Sergeyevich Krasnov was a man around fifty with gray temples and a piercing gaze. Behind him came three others, a middle-aged woman in a strict suit, a young man with a tablet, and an older gentleman with a folder.
“Mr. Lübert. ” Krasnov extended his hand. The handshake was firm, almost aggressive.
“Viktor Sergeyevich, pleased to meet you. ”
They sat down. Ren took a seat beside Tillmann, arranging the documents. The tension in the room was palpable.
“So, Mr. Lübert,” Krasnov began, leaning back. “You’ve promised us a project that will turn the market upside down. We’re interested, but we want details.
No beating around the bush. Just facts. ”
Tillmann switched on the projector. “The project is called Horizon,” he began confidently.
“A comprehensive platform for automating logistics processes. We offer a solution that cuts company costs by thirty percent and speeds up delivery times by fifty percent. ”
“Ambitious,” noted the finance director. “But how do you plan to implement it?
”
“Through integration of artificial intelligence and machine learning. ” Tillmann switched slides. “Our platform analyzes millions of data points in real time, optimizes routes, predicts delays, and automatically redistributes resources. ”
For the next forty minutes, he explained the technical side.
Krasnov listened attentively, occasionally asking questions. Tillmann answered precisely, without hesitation. He knew his project inside and out. “How much do you need to launch?
” Krasnov asked when Tillmann finished the technical part. “Fifty million euros. Twenty for development, fifteen for testing, fifteen for marketing and launch. ”
“That’s a lot of money,” the lawyer frowned.
“What guarantees do you offer? ”
“We guarantee return on investment within three years with at least eighty percent yield. Our calculations are based on conservative market estimates. The real return could be twice as high.
”
Krasnov leaned closer, studying the charts. “Do you have clients yet? ”
“Yes. Three major logistics companies are ready to become pilot users.
Contracts signed. ”
“Show me. ”
Ren handed over the folder. Krasnov flipped through quickly and passed it to the lawyer, who delved into it, making notes.
Tillmann felt the adrenaline rush. It was like poker with millions at stake. “And the competition? ” asked the finance director.
“There are already similar solutions on the market. ”
“There are,” Tillmann agreed. “But they’re either too expensive or not efficient enough. Our product combines affordability and quality.
We’ve done a comparative analysis. ”
Krasnov studied the numbers, and Tillmann saw interest spark in his eyes. “Good,” Krasnov said finally. “But one point.
I heard your father, Otto Lübert, is developing a similar project. Is that true? ”
The air in the room thickened. Tillmann paused briefly but recovered quickly.
“That’s true. But his project lags behind by at least two years. We’re ahead in every parameter. ”
“You and your father are competitors.
”
“We haven’t spoken in fifteen years. ” Tillmann looked him straight in the eye. “I built my company without his help, and yes, I want to surpass him. That’s my motivation.
”
Krasnov grinned. “Honest. I like that. Continue.
”
The next two hours passed in heated discussion. The investors asked tricky questions, looked for weaknesses, haggled over deadlines and conditions. Tillmann remained composed, parrying every attack with facts and figures. Eventually, the lawyer raised the risk issue.
“And if the technology doesn’t work as promised, who bears the losses? ”
“We’re willing to take on part of the risk. If the metrics fall below what’s promised, we’ll reimburse twenty percent of the investment from our own funds. ”
Krasnov raised an eyebrow.
“You’re that confident? ”
“Absolutely. ”
“Bold statement. I don’t like losing, Viktor Sergeyevich.
”
Krasnov laughed and leaned back. “I like that. You remind me of myself in my younger years. Ambitious, hungry for success.
”
Tillmann said nothing, but inwardly triumphed. He knew the negotiations were heading in the right direction. Another hour went to legal details. Finally, the lawyer closed his folder and nodded to Krasnov.
Krasnov exchanged glances with his team, who also nodded. “Mr. Lübert. ” Krasnov stood and extended his hand across the table.
“We’ll sign this contract. ”
Tillmann’s heart dropped and then soared. He stood and shook the hand, careful not to show his inner joy. “Thank you for your trust, Viktor Sergeyevich.
You won’t regret it. ”
“I hope not. My lawyers will contact yours tomorrow. ”
“Excellent.
”
They exchanged a few more words, clarified details, and the investors left. The door closed, and Tillmann finally relaxed. He sank into the chair, head back, eyes closed. “We did it,” he whispered.
Ren clapped him on the shoulder. “You were brilliant, friend. Absolutely brilliant. ”
“We were brilliant,” Tillmann corrected, opening his eyes.
“Without you, I wouldn’t have pulled it off. ”
“Nonsense. This is your victory. ”
Tillmann stood and walked to the window.
The city glittered below in the evening light. He felt on top of the world. This contract opened new horizons. They could expand internationally, hire the best specialists.
And above all, he had finally surpassed his father. His company would become the market leader, and Otto Lübert’s empire would be left behind. “You know what I’m thinking? ” Tillmann asked without turning around.
“What? ”
“About my father. I wonder what he’ll say when he finds out. ”
“He won’t be happy,” Ren grinned.
“But that’s his problem. He brought it on himself. ”
“Yes. He’s the cause of everything.
”
They fell silent. Ren began gathering the documents. Tillmann remained at the window, lost in thought. “So you’re really going through with it?
” Ren asked finally, without looking up from the papers. “With Viviane, you mean? ”
“Yes. ”
Tillmann turned.
“I’m going to propose to her. ”
Ren straightened and looked at his friend. Concern hid in his gaze, which he tried to conceal. “Listen, Tillmann, I’m your friend, and I wish you happiness.
”
“But? ”
“But I see Rosalie in Viviane. ”
“That’s the point,” Tillmann said, interrupting him. “Don’t you understand?
She’s just as kind, simple, sincere. I can’t just let her go. ”
“That’s what worries me most,” Ren shook his head. “She’s too similar.
Too much. Are you sure you love her yourself and not the image of Rosalie you see in her? ”
Tillmann frowned. “What are you talking about?
”
“I’m talking about you grieving for fifteen years. Feeling guilty about Rosalie’s death. And suddenly, a woman appears who seems like her copy. Isn’t that suspicious?
”
“You think I’m using her? ” Tillmann’s voice turned sharp. “No,” Ren answered quickly. “I think you don’t know what you’re doing yourself.
You want Rosalie back so desperately that you cling to any woman who resembles her. ”
“You’re wrong. ” Tillmann stepped to the table, leaning on it. “Viviane isn’t a replacement.
She’s herself, and I love her. ”
“Are you sure? ”
“Absolutely. ”
Ren studied him, then nodded.
“Fine. If you say so, I believe you. But be careful, friend. The past has a way of coming back.
”
“I know what I’m doing,” Tillmann said firmly, but something twitched inside him. Ren’s words stuck. What if he was right? What if Tillmann was really looking for Rosalie in Viviane?
What if he was lying to himself? No. He loved Viviane. He was sure of it.
Rosalie had given him a sign this morning. The bird, the song, the feeling of warmth and forgiveness. It was real. He wasn’t mistaken.
“I have to go,” Tillmann said, heading for the door. “I need to buy a ring. ”
“Good luck. ” Ren smiled, but the smile seemed forced.
Tillmann left the meeting room and walked to the elevator. The day was full of victories. The contract, the decision to propose, the feeling that life was finally moving in the right direction. But Ren’s words wouldn’t leave him alone.
He shook his head, chasing away the doubts. Everything would be fine. Viviane was his future. Rosalie was the past, which he honored but had to let go.
Tillmann stood before the mirror in the restaurant’s staff room, pulling on the white waiter’s shirt. His fingers trembled so much he could barely button it. The black bow tie lay nearby on the table. “Calm down,” he whispered to his reflection.
“It’s just a proposal. The most important proposal of your life. ”
He took a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it. The ring sparkled in the lamplight, white gold with a brilliant diamond, elegant, exactly what Viviane would like.
He had bought it this afternoon at Berlin’s best jeweler, spending almost two hours choosing it. He touched the box, checking that it closed properly. His heart hammered in his throat. He pictured the scene: walking to the table, sinking to one knee before Viviane, opening the box, her gasp, her hands flying to her mouth, crying with joy, and saying yes.
He had played this scene a hundred times in the last few hours. “Everything will be perfect,” he told himself, putting the box into the inner pocket of his vest. “It’s safe there and won’t get in the way. ”
The plan was simple and romantic.
Viviane had arranged to meet her friend Alessia at this restaurant at seven. Tillmann had found out by chance when she mentioned it. The idea came instantly. Disguise himself as a waiter and propose right there, in front of all the guests.
Viviane loved romantic gestures, and this would be the most unforgettable moment of her life. Tillmann had spoken with the restaurant owner, an old business acquaintance, who was enthusiastic, even offering champagne on the house and live music. Everything was planned to the smallest detail. He put on the black vest and finally managed the bow tie.
He looked convincing. He had even taken off his expensive watch to avoid standing out. The door opened a crack, and the restaurant manager looked in. “Mr.
Lübert, your fiancée just arrived. She’s seated at the window table, as requested. ”
“Alone? ”
“She said she’s waiting for a guest.
”
“Perfect. I’ll be out in five minutes. ”
The manager nodded and closed the door. Tillmann checked the ring box again.
It was safe. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling. “You can do this,” he told himself. “Rosalie gave you her blessing.
Viviane loves you. Everything will be fine. ”
He left the staff room and entered the main hall. The restaurant was full, almost every table taken.
Dim light, soft music, the scent of expensive food. The perfect atmosphere for a proposal. The manager led the way, though Tillmann knew where Viviane’s table was. They had agreed that another waiter would serve her first, take the order, bring drinks.
Then, after about twenty minutes, when her friend arrived and they were chatting, Tillmann would appear. The element of surprise was crucial. “There’s her table. ” The manager nodded toward the window.
Tillmann looked and froze. His heart stopped, then beat twice as fast. At the table sat Viviane in a beautiful blue dress, hair loose. But opposite her sat not her friend Alessia.
Opposite her sat Otto Lübert. His father. Tillmann felt the ground give way beneath his feet. “Mr.
Lübert, is everything all right? ” the manager asked, concerned. “You’ve gone pale. ”
“Fine,” Tillmann mumbled.
“Just nervous. ”
“Understandable. Good luck. ”
The manager left, and Tillmann stood still, unable to move.
He stared at the table, trying to understand what was happening. Viviane and his father were talking calmly, without tension, like old acquaintances. Tillmann took a step closer, then another. He had to hear what they were saying.
Fortunately, the neighboring table had just become free. He went over quickly, pretending to clear dishes, stacking plates on a tray. He was close enough to hear everything. Viviane laughed at something the father said.
Otto Lübert smiled too. That cold, calculating smile Tillmann knew so well. “Viviane, you’re playing your part brilliantly,” the father said. His voice was soft, almost tender.
“Actually, it’s not so easy playing the simple girl,” Viviane smiled, sipping her wine. “You have to always be careful, hold back when you want to dress nicely, pretend to love simple things. But your son is worth it. ”
The world around Tillmann began to crumble.
A plate slipped from his hand and clattered back onto the table. He didn’t notice. “Don’t worry, it won’t be much longer,” Otto Lübert grinned, leaning back. “I heard he’s going to propose soon.
Then you can take off all the masks. ”
“He’s head over heels in love with you. ”
“Then I’m on the right track,” Viviane nodded calmly. “After the wedding, I’ll get access to his accounts, as agreed.
Fifty percent of everything he’s earned all these years. I’ll get the rest myself. ”
“My son has played the big entrepreneur long enough. Time to show him who really runs this family.
”
Viviane laughed. That laugh Tillmann had once found so sweet and sincere now cut through his ears like a knife. “You’re a genius, Otto. Coming up with such a plan.
Finding a girl who resembles his dead fiancée, training me to play her role. It wasn’t easy, but the result is worth it. ”
“I know my son,” the father said coldly. “He’s sentimental.
I always knew the only way through his walls was through his past. Rosalie was his weakness, and you, my dear, have become the perfect weapon. ”
Tillmann stood frozen. His hands trembled so much he dropped the tray.
It crashed to the floor. Plates shattered, glasses rolled apart. The whole room turned toward the noise. Viviane and Otto turned their heads too.
For a moment, their eyes met. The father went pale. Viviane opened her mouth but made no sound. Tillmann looked at them both, at the father he had hated for fifteen years and the woman he had wanted to marry.
In his head raced fragments of conversation. Play the simple girl. Head over heels in love. Fifty percent of everything.
The perfect weapon. Everything was a lie from the start. The meeting in the café, their talks, her smile, her tenderness. All a carefully planned deception.
His father had found a girl who resembled Rosalie, trained her, slipped her into his life, and he had fallen for it like an idiot. Rage washed over him like a wave, blind and consuming. Tillmann ripped off the bow tie and threw it to the floor. Through the broken plates, glass shards, and astonished stares of the guests, he walked to their table.
“Tillmann,” Viviane began, standing, but he didn’t even look at her. He went straight to his father. Otto Lübert stood too, trying to maintain dignity, but fear flickered in his eyes. “Son, let’s talk calmly.
”
Tillmann didn’t let him finish. His fist hit the father’s face with full force. The blow was so strong that Otto staggered back, knocking over his chair. He fell to the floor, hand pressed to his split lip.
Blood ran between his fingers. “You staged all of this? ” Tillmann shouted. There was so much pain in his voice that Viviane stepped back.
“You found her. You forced her to play this role! ”
“Tillmann, please, listen to me. ” Viviane reached out, wanting to touch him.
He turned sharply toward her. In his eyes burned rage and pain. “And you? ” He looked at her with such contempt that she flinched.
Words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say everything he wanted. If he started, he would scream, cry, and he wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. Around them, a crowd had gathered.
Waiters, the manager, guests, all staring in horror. Some were already pulling out phones to film. Tillmann turned and walked with quick steps toward the exit. On the way, he tore off the waiter’s vest and threw it on the floor.
The apron followed. He felt everything inside him boiling and wanting out. He had to get out. Now.
“Tillmann, wait! ” Viviane called, but he didn’t turn around. He pushed open the door and rushed onto the street. The cold evening air hit his face.
He breathed deeply, but it didn’t help. His chest was constricted. He took a few steps and grabbed a lamppost, trying to catch his breath. “No, no, no,” he muttered, covering his face with his hands.
Everything he had believed in for the last three months had collapsed in a second. Viviane, his hope for a new life, for happiness, for healing, was a lie. A decoy. An actress hired to destroy him.
And he had fallen for it like a complete fool. The worst part was that his father had used Rosalie. His love for her, his pain, his guilt. He had found a similar girl, trained her to play the simple woman, copied all the traits Tillmann had loved in Rosalie.
And he had bitten. He had betrayed Rosalie’s memory for a cheap forgery. “My God,” he whispered, tears running down his cheeks. “Rosalie, forgive me.
Forgive me! ”
The restaurant door opened. Tillmann heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Viviane.
She stood on the threshold, hugging herself against the cold, face pale, eyes full of tears. “Tillmann, please, let me explain. ”
“Explain? ” He laughed bitterly, full of despair.
“What do you want to explain? That you’re an actress hired by my father? That your love was part of the deal? ”
“Yes, at first it was,” she confessed.
“But then—”
“Shut up,” Tillmann said quietly, and she fell silent. “Just shut up. I don’t want to hear your justifications. ”
He turned and walked away.
His footsteps echoed in the night silence. Viviane didn’t follow. She remained at the entrance, crying, hugging herself. Tillmann walked without looking where he was going.
Past shop windows, people, cars. Inside him was emptiness. Everything he had felt in recent months, hope, joy, love, had evaporated, leaving only pain. For three days, Tillmann didn’t leave his apartment.
The curtains stayed drawn, lights off. He lay on the sofa in the same clothes he had fled the restaurant in, staring at the ceiling. His phone rang constantly. Viviane.
Ren. Business partners. He answered none. On the second day, she came.
Tillmann heard the bell, then knocking. “Tillmann, open up, please. ” Viviane’s voice sounded desperate. “I need to talk to you.
To explain. ”
He lay still on the sofa. “Tillmann, I know you’re there. Please listen.
Yes, I accepted your father’s offer. But everything changed. I really fell in love with you. ”
Tillmann closed his eyes.
In love. What irony. She had played a role for three months, and now she claimed to really love him, after he had overheard her conversation with his father. “I don’t want your money,” Viviane called through the door.
“I just want you. Tillmann, open up, please. ”
He got up and walked to the door, placing his hand on the cold wood. Only a few centimeters separated them.
He heard her crying on the other side. “Go away,” he said loudly enough for her to hear. The crying stopped. Silence.
“Tillmann, please. ”
“Go away and never come back. ”
He heard a sob, then footsteps receding down the hall. Tillmann returned to the sofa and lay back down, staring at the ceiling.
Inside, he was so empty he wanted to scream. On the third day, Ren called. Tillmann looked at the vibrating phone, wondering whether to answer. On the fifth ring, he picked up.
“Yes. ”
“Tillmann, thank God. I was worried something happened to you. Why don’t you answer?
What happened? ”
“Long story. ”
“I’m coming over. ”
“Ren, no need.
”
“Shut up. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. ”
The line went dead. Tillmann looked at the phone, then threw it on the sofa.
Maybe it was good. Keeping everything inside had become unbearable. He got up and went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and flinched. Unshaven, dark circles under his eyes, haggard.
He looked like he had aged ten years in three days. He washed his face with cold water, but it barely helped. He went to the living room and opened the curtains. Daylight flooded in.
He squinted. The apartment was a mess. Empty whiskey bottles on the coffee table, dirty dishes, clothes scattered. Tillmann began to tidy up but stopped.
What difference did it make? Exactly twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Tillmann opened it. Ren stood on the threshold with a bag of food and a worried face.
“Hey, where have you been? ” He stepped in and looked around. “My God, what happened here? Looks like a tornado went through.
”
“Something like that,” Tillmann said, closing the door. Ren put the bag on the table and turned to his friend. “What’s wrong? ” He stepped closer and put his hand on Tillmann’s shoulder.
“You look terrible. ”
“I feel worse. ” Tillmann went to the bar, got a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Sit down.
This will be a long conversation. ”
“I have time. ”
Tillmann poured. His hands still trembled as he handed a glass to Ren.
“Remember I was going to propose to Viviane? ” he began, sitting down in the armchair. Ren took the opposite seat, glass in hand. “Yes, in the restaurant, right?
” He frowned. “Did she say no? ”
“No. ” Tillmann smiled bitterly.
“It was much worse. ”
He took a large sip, feeling the burn in his throat. Then he began to tell, slowly, with pauses, searching for words. How he disguised himself as a waiter.
How he saw Viviane with his father. What he heard. “I heard him praising her for playing her part so well. ” Tillmann’s voice trembled.
“You understand? He deliberately found a girl who resembles Rosalie. Trained her to play the simple woman. Slipped her into my life.
”
Ren froze, glass in hand, eyes wide. “What? No. That’s not possible.
”
“It’s very possible. ” Tillmann pressed his hands to his head. “I heard them with my own ears. They talked about her getting access to my accounts after the wedding, about taking off the masks, about me being head over heels in love like an idiot.
”
“My God. ” Ren set down the glass. “Yes, friend. I wouldn’t have believed my father capable of this either.
”
“Neither would I. ” Tillmann laughed bitterly. “Though I should have known. He was always a pig.
Fifteen years ago, he killed Rosalie with his words, and now he wanted to finish me off completely. ”
Ren stood and went to the window, looking down at the city, silent for a few seconds, processing what he heard. “And imagine how I felt,” Tillmann continued. “I had the ring in my pocket.
I was going to kneel before her, in front of the whole room. ”
He couldn’t continue, a lump in his throat. He took another sip, trying to wash down the bitterness. “What swine!
” he whispered. “Playing with fates. Using Rosalie’s memory against me. ”
“Tillmann.
” Ren turned to him. “I understand this hurts. But maybe you should give Viviane a chance to explain. To hear her side.
”
“What for? ” Tillmann raised his head, anger in his eyes. “What can she explain? I heard everything myself.
There’s nothing to explain. ”
“She came here, didn’t she? ”
“Yes, stood outside the door, cried, begged me to open. ” Tillmann waved dismissively.
“Said she really fell in love with me. ”
“And what if it’s true? ”
“Ren, are you serious? ” Tillmann jumped out of the armchair.
“She played a role for three months. Pretended, studied me, copied Rosalie’s behavior. And now I’m supposed to believe she suddenly really loves me? ”
“Granted, it doesn’t sound convincing,” Ren said quietly.
“I can’t believe her. I can’t forgive her. She betrayed me. ” He sat back down, feeling his strength ebbing.
Three days without sleep and proper food were taking their toll. “You know what the worst part is? ” Tillmann asked quietly, looking into his empty glass. “I really believed she was the right one.
That Rosalie sent her to me. That I got a second chance at happiness. And it turns out my father staged everything. He used my pain.
My love for Rosalie. ”
Ren returned to the table and poured himself more whiskey. “What will you do now? ”
“Nothing.
” Tillmann shrugged. “I’ll go back to work. Forget this nightmare. Keep living like I have been.
”
“Alone? ”
“Yes, alone. Because now I can’t trust women again. I realized my Rosalie was the only one I could trust.
The only one who was real. ”
“Not all women are like that,” Ren tried to object. “Maybe. ” Tillmann stood and went to the window.
“But I don’t want to take any more risks. I’ve lost the love of my life once. I’ve been betrayed a second time, using her image. That’s enough.
There won’t be a third time. ”
They were silent. Outside, the city was living its life. Cars, people, shop lights.
Everything continued as if Tillmann’s world hadn’t collapsed for the third time. “I brought food,” Ren broke the silence. “Have you eaten anything these past few days? ”
“No.
”
“Then eat now. Then shower, shave, sleep properly, and tomorrow you go back to the office. No arguments,” Ren said firmly. “You can’t lie here and die of grief.
You have a company, employees, obligations. We still need to close the Krasnov deal. Life goes on, Tillmann. ”
Tillmann looked at him and slowly nodded.
Ren was right. Life did go on. And he couldn’t let himself fall apart. Not after fifteen years of building his empire.
Not after finally surpassing his father. “Fine,” he said quietly. “I’ll go back to work. But with women, I’m done.
For good. ”
Ren said nothing, just nodded and began unpacking the food containers. The scent of food filled the apartment, and Tillmann’s stomach growled treacherously. They ate in silence.
Tillmann chewed mechanically, tasting nothing. His thoughts kept circling, returning to the scene in the restaurant, to Viviane’s face when she realized he had heard everything, to his father’s smug grimace. “You know,” Tillmann said, pushing away the empty container. “The most offensive part is that it’s my own fault.
You warned me. Said she was too similar to Rosalie. That it was suspicious. ”
“I didn’t know.
”
“I should have known. But I wanted so desperately to believe I had a second chance that I ignored every red flag. ”
He stood and went to the bathroom, turned on the shower, undressed. Hot water washed away the filth of the three-day confinement but not the pain.
That stayed inside, sharp and throbbing. When he came out clean, shaved, and in fresh clothes, he felt physically better. His soul was still torn. Ren sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.
“Ready to dive back into the business world? ” he asked. “As much as possible. ” Tillmann sat down next to him.
“Thanks for coming. For pulling me out of that hole. ”
“That’s what friends are for. ” Ren clapped him on the shoulder.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. We’ll go to the office together. We have a lot to do. ”
“Good.
”
They sat a while longer, talking about work. It helped distract, to dive into numbers, plans, strategies. Everything Tillmann understood and could control, unlike feelings. When Ren finally left, Tillmann remained alone in the silent apartment.
He lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would begin a new life. For the third time. A life without Rosalie, without Viviane, without hope for love.
Only work. Only business. Only revenge on his father.
And nothing else.